Rich and Famous
by Natalia173
Summary: AU. Shane Gray is a famous celebrity that has never been turned down by any woman... until now.


I lost my flash drive so all my other stories are kind of on hiatus until I find it (which hopefully I do because my entire life is on it). I get a lot of down time at work but I can't surf the internet so that means writing. I also really like one-shots that are really long.

Be warned, Camp Rock doesn't exist in this story, nor do any of their friends from it (though Nate does make an appearance). They're older in this story, like their late twenties.

Disclaimer: I don't own Camp Rock or any of its characters. I simply use them to further the enjoyment of all.

**ooOOoo**

My limo pulled up and I could already see the flashes through the darkened windows. I didn't really want to be here but since I starred in the movie, it was only appropriate that I show up. Acting had never really been my thing, quite the opposite actually. These days you couldn't _just_ have a singing career though. You had to be everything to everyone and so when my agent had come to me with the opportunity to star in the film, I took it. Unfortunately I forgot that it didn't just entail showing up to set.

I fretted with my hair a bit and then slid my sunglasses onto my face. Only in Hollywood would it go unnoticed to wear them in the evening. I opened the door to the limo, preparing myself for the onslaught of people I knew lay in wait on the other side.

I wasn't disappointed. Cameras flashed and people rushed me, everyone wanting to get close to the elusive Shane Gray. Two women I didn't know immediately latched onto my arms and I simply nodded at them before sliding from their grasp. My body guards took care of the rest. I hated being surrounded by so many women who were looking for nothing but my fame. It wasn't that I didn't date, it was just that the women I did date needed to have as much fame and money as myself. You could never trust a common girl. Eventually the money would ruin it.

Not that normal women didn't have their place in the world; I frequently hook up with them. They threw themselves at me with little inhibition while famous women practically wanted a pre-nup. I'm still a movie star with needs and fulfill them as often as I want, it wasn't exactly the way I hoped to be spending my life.

I waded through the paparazzi and fans, finding my seat inside the theatre. Watching myself on screen was the oddest thing I have ever experienced. I could see all the mistakes that no one else could and it made me cringe a little. The whole time all I could think about was how soon it would be over and if I could get to the after party with minimal interaction with the people around me. The after parties were more interesting anyways. All the people who brush elbows with the elite but weren't quite in the money bracket to sit in the theatre came to the after parties.

Finally the credits rolled and the lights brightened, releasing me from the torture of watching myself act. It was obvious that I should stick to singing; I was much better at it. I looked up and down the isle and saw that people blocked me in every direction. However, I only had to climb over three people if I went left, whereas I had about twelve to pass on my right. I waited patiently as two of the people on my left filed out, following the crowd out the doors but the woman sitting right next to me was too busy talking to the man behind her. I waited a moment more, hoping that she would see she was holding everyone up. She didn't cease her avid conversation. I tapped my foot impatiently, wanting nothing more than to escape the theatre.

"Will you excuse me for a moment?" she asked the man and when he nodded, turned towards me. "The way to get me to move isn't by tapping your foot rudely." She looked up, and realized who I was, the exact thing I didn't want to happen. A look of annoyance overcame her and she rolled her eyes. "Well I can't say that I'm surprised." With that, she turned back to the man and renewed her conversation as if nothing had happened.

What was going on? I tapped her on the shoulder, planning to demand what she meant by her comment and why it was she didn't move when she noticed I was waiting. By this point, the entire right side of my row had emptied out but I didn't care. This was about principle now and I'd be damned if I were going to go the other way just so that I didn't inconvenience _her_. She turned towards me.

"Is there something I can help you with?"

"Would you please allow me to pass?" I asked her. All the things I was going to say died on my lips and that's all I could manage to get out. Why was I being polite to her when she had been so obviously rude to me?

"So he has been taught some manners!" She turned to the man she had been having a conversation with. "You have my card, James, just give me a call and we can finish this discussion then." She gave me a last contemptuous glance before walking up the aisle and out of the theatre.

I was stunned and I fumed the whole way to the party, like a three year old who didn't get the lollipop he wanted. I couldn't understand why she had been so rude. I had never met her in my life but then again, I didn't remember a lot of them women that I met in my life. I probably sleep with anywhere from two to four women a week and couldn't be bothered to remember them all. However, she didn't even seem familiar to me. Perhaps she was just a scathed girl that had fallen into the recesses of my memory.

I was still thinking about her when I got to the party an hour later, probably the longest time I had ever thought about one woman. As I said, relationships, as much as I would enjoy a genuine one, didn't often happen. This woman perplexed me and that made me think about her. I put her out of my mind when I arrived at the party. I had to pay attention to the people around me. The event was being thrown for the movie that I starred in so it would be completely inappropriate if I let one woman dominate my thoughts and ignored all others that were there to see me.

I managed not to think of her for most of the night. I had people to see and talk to, a lot of who paid my salary. The usual flank of women followed me around and I paid the appropriate amount of attention to them. Most were celebrities but there were the occasional street girls who had, in one way or another, managed to squeeze their way in to a high end party.

Towards the later hours of the evening, I made my way to the bar. My alcohol intake for the night had been relatively low and things were at the point that I could change that, needed to change that if I was going to survive the rest of the night. The place was reputed to have some of the best champagne around so I decided to start with a glass of it.

"A glass of champagne, please," I said to the bartender.

"We've run out for the evening. I'm sorry, sir."

I looked at him in disbelief. He had to be joking. I didn't think that running out of anything was an option at a function such as this but the look on his face indicated that he wasn't joking in the least. "When?" I blurted out. He pointed a short ways down the bar.

"That woman took the last glass," he commented. "Can I get you anything else?" I just waved him off and looked at the woman he had pointed to. I could only see the back of her head but her hair was dark, falling to her waist. Not many women wore it that length, especially in Hollywood, too much maintenance. Her dress was backless, scooping to the small of her back and the straps were thin, though not spaghetti straps. The red material hung silkily to the floor and fit her in the most perfect way. Her right hand, perfectly manicured, was resting on my glass of champagne.

The woman, from behind at least, was stunning and I thought that I might be able to get more than my glass of champagne out of her. That is of course, before who I saw who she was. I tapped on her shoulder and she turned, surprised. Surprised turned to instant contempt when I realized it was the woman from the movie theatre earlier that night.

"Of course it's you," I said to her, my annoyance at her earlier attitude coming through.

"If you knew it was me, why did you tap on my shoulder? Surely even a superstar like you can tell the difference between the people he's friends with and the people who can't stand him." She was baiting me and I knew it but that didn't stop me from rising to it. I leaned in close, a proximity that would only be welcome to a lover.

"When I find someone who dislikes me so much, I'll be sure to avoid them."

She shoved me, hard actually, away from her, furious. She looked as if she were ready to hit me right there in front of the bar. Instead she took out her quick tongue and lashed me with that.

"If all these people would stop bending over and show you their faces maybe you could see how much they hate you for fucking them in the ass." Her eyes glared at me, daring me to say something. I had to keep from laughing. She was quick witted and sharp tongued, two things that I had yet to find in a woman. She also seemed to genuinely hate me! I had seen all sorts of tricks: woman who gushed over me, others who, unconvincingly, tried to pretend they had no idea who I was. Some tried to act as if it weren't a big deal, that they met people like me all the time. Again, it was an unconvincing act. However, I never had someone pretend to detest me and, what was even better was that she didn't seem as if she were pretending.

I knew instantly that I had to learn her name.

"Touché, my dear, I concede this round to you." I tipped my head slightly. "Would you be so kind as to tell me the name of my challenger?"

She picked up my glass of champagne, drank it slowly, and then smirked at me.

"I wouldn't give you my name even if you told me you were Shane Grey is disguise."

"I _am_ Shane Grey," I pointed out to her. Her face filled with the most fake shocked expression I had ever seen in my life. We both knew she had known all along but that would ruin the game for us both.

"Well, in that case, no." She finished off the last of her drink, leaving the flute on the table for the bartended to pick up. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some very pressing matters to attend to." She walked off without even the usual backwards coy glance. I couldn't believe there was a woman who was genuinely uninterested.

"Shane!"

I looked to my side and saw Nate there, an old friend. He apparently had called my name more than once and I hadn't noticed.

"I've never see you look that distracted," he told me. "Why are you watching Mitchie?"

I was suddenly paying very close attention to him. "Mitchie?" I asked.

"Yeah, Mitchie Torres. She's this up and rising web designer. Everyone has a webpage these days and Mitchie is fantastic at it. She came at the request of one of her clients. She doesn't frequent the social circles if she can manage to avoid them but this guy is one of her biggest accounts." Nate took a sip of his drink, looking at me expectantly. "What's your interest in her?"

I shrugged my shoulders as if she were no different than any other woman I had looked at in my life. "A nice ass," I responded, they way everyone always expected me to respond. Nate just rolled his eyes.

"I wouldn't get too attached. She can't stand celebrities and her bed has been closed to every male that I know who has chased her. She doesn't think highly of men with money and fame." He finished his drink and ordered another. "Then again, I've seen you grow more attached to clothes than you do to people."

"Hey, you don't find many t-shirts like my Notre Dame one." In fact, my Notre Dame one was made especially for me but I wore it so often it that it was getting thread bare.

"Whatever, man," he answered, shrugging before grabbing his drink and walking off to enjoy his own night.

Mitchie Torres, huh? There could only be so many Mitchie Torres web designers that lived in the area and I was more than confident that I'd be able to find her place of business at the very least, if not her actual residence. Mitchie was something else, something I planned to actively pursue. She was as close to a normal girl as you could get, keeping away from the public eye she seemed to so despise, but yet had her own fortune from her company. Mitchie was definitely something worth pursuing.

**ooOOoo**

I woke up the following morning, hung over. After Mitchie had left and I talked to Nate I probably knocked back one too many. I groaned slightly, my head aching.

"Mmm, I'm glad you're awake." I felt hands slide down my abdomen and lower at the same time I heard her speak. I looked over and saw a brunette lying next to me. She actually resembled Mitchie in the slightest way but I could already tell her mental skills were lacking whereas Mitchie's were not. I must have brought her home in a drunken stupor and slept with her. I vaguely remembered someone getting me hard and then climbing on top of me but the memories were too vague to be worth the headache that ensued recalling them. I caught the hand, removed it from its progress below my waist and got out of bed, heading for the shower. I pressed the button that rang my assistant and knew the unwanted guest in my bed would be taken care of by the time I was done.

When I came out not only was the nameless girl gone but my bed was changed and made up and my closet open, ready for me to choose what it was I'd wear for the day. I smiled, once again happy for the efficiency of my household staff. After dressing in the simplicity of my favorite jeans and a t-shirt, I headed to my office and took out the number of my PI.

I didn't use him as often as some but he was the best at what he did and I often had a need for him when I was doing business. I had to admit this was the first time I had used him to stalk someone. Let's face it, in reality a PI, when not used to do background checks on business associates, was just a glorified, lazy form of stalking.

"Mitchie Torres? And she owns a web design company?" said Jimmy, the PI's voice coming clearly from the speaker phone. I could hear the scratch of the man's pen on paper as he took down the information. "Got anything else on her?"

"Brown hair, brown eyes, legs that go on forever and the sexiest butt in Hollywood," I told him.

"Plastic or natural?" Jimmy asked and I couldn't help but grin. In Hollywood you didn't always know if people enhanced their body but Mitchie didn't strike me as the type who would resort to plastic surgery, even if she needed it, which clearly she didn't.

"Natural," I told him and I heard Jimmy whistle.

"Can't be a whole lot of women like that wandering around here. Gimme a little time and I'll find out who she is."

"Thanks, Jimmy." I terminated the phone call without even a good-bye. Not ten minutes later the phone rang. I picked up knowing that if the person on the other end had access to this line, it was probably someone I wanted to talk to. "Shane Grey."

"Shane, Jimmy, I found her."

"Already?" Even for Jimmy it was fast work.

"She owns her own company. Those forms are public record. Her address took a little more digging, but not much. You want the info?"

"Just e-mail it to me. How much do I owe you, Jimmy?" I asked, already seeing his e-mail pop into my inbox. His hysterical laughter surprised me.

"Don't worry about it. It would cost more money to write you a bill than I would be charging you." I joined in his laughter, knowing he was probably right. "Besides, you pay me more in a year than all my other accounts put together."

Jimmy's clientele was very exclusive, as in Jimmy had enough high paying clients that he wasn't going to help you unless he wanted to. I was at the top of the list because I had always been honest with Jimmy. I told him what information I needed and why, at least up until today. Jimmy wasn't in the glorified stalking business. You wanted your wife followed to see if she's cheating? Don't call Jimmy. If you wanted to check out if a company you were thinking of doing business with was dealing under the table, then Jimmy was exactly the guy you wanted to talk to.

I thanked him again, hanging up. Pulling up his email I saw that she actually lived just outside of Hollywood in one of the more modest parts of town. The houses still easily ran over half a million but for this area that was cheap. I would have expected her to live somewhere a little more lavish and again she surprised me by her humility. All signs were pointing to her being a very uncomplicated girl. Hopefully that would lead to an uncomplicated liaison.

Her business was located in downtown Hollywood, maybe a half hour drive from where I lived. I pulled my schedule up for the day, seeing that other than a lunch date with my producer and a dinner date with my mother, I was clear, something that was rare for me. I dialed the extension of my secretary.

"Yeah, Shane?" Her tone of voice stated she was busy and I'd better make it short. Inge had been with me for four years and I never once regretted hiring her. She put me in my place the first day that she worked for me and we hadn't had a problem since. She held her own but in an entirely different way than Mitchie. When Inge did it, it was businesslike and no-nonsense. When Mitchie did it, it was an alluring argument.

"I need you to cancel my lunch with my producer. I have something that came up today."

"I bet you did," she mumbled through the phone and I couldn't help but laugh. Inge knew me all too well sometimes. "Did you want me to also cancel your dinner date with your mother?"

"No, I would never cancel on my mother. And call down to the garage and have the mustang ready to go for me in an hour."

"Silver or blue?" she asked me.

"Silver," I told her, "definitely silver." The connection was severed, indicating that she had all the information that she needed from me. I went back to my computer, answering the important emails and leaving the rest that could wait until tomorrow. Right now, I had somewhere to be and the minutes were ticking by. I grabbed my jacket, completely unnecessary in the warm weather but it looked particularly good on me, and headed out the door.

Just as I predicted, the weather was warm and sunny and I kept the top down to my car the entire way. It took me a little longer than expected to find her shop but only because I expected it to be so much bigger. Like her, however, the store front was understated. It was just a small little place on a side street, barely big enough to hold her office and the secretary that I saw through the front window.

I walked in, approaching the secretary's desk, trying to discern where Mitchie's office was. I smiled at the women and she responded accordingly.

"Did you have an appointment?" she asked me. I could tell she was looking at the schedule, trying to see if she had forgotten something and why my presence wasn't matching up with the calendar in front of her.

"No," I told her politely, "I just came to see Mitchie."

"I'm sorry, sir, but Mitchie's schedule is full at the moment. If you'd like, I can schedule an appointment for you to see her." It was a very skillfully done blow off, professional yet efficient at the same time. I barely recognized that I was being told I was a pain in the ass.

Just then Mitchie came walking out of her office, face buried in Chinese menus. "Hey, Jess, what do you want to do for lunch?" She looked up, saw me and her face immediately set into a scowl. "What are_ you_ doing here?"

"I'm here to see you," I said to her. "I was told you had a free minute."

"No you weren't," Jess told me, her polite tone gone. She could see her boss's obvious dislike for me and now did not hesitate to share it. I ignored her, continuing to work my magic on Mitchie.

"Well, it looks like you have a spare moment. After all, all you're doing is ordering some lunch."

"We take our lunch orders very seriously around here," Mitchie said, dropping the Chinese menu on Jess's desk. I just stood there, refusing to be shoved out and Mitchie sighed in resignation. "You're not going to leave until you talk to me, are you?" It wasn't a question so I didn't really give her an answer, just a slow smile. "Fine! Come on back. Jess, if I get any calls, put them through immediately." Jess snickered but I followed Mitchie to her office anyways.

It was rather large considering how small the building was. She sat behind a huge desk made of dark wood and her computer was one of the nicest I'd seen, including my own. Her chair looked incredibly comfortable and two chairs were placed strategically in front of her desk. The walls held no decorations but were covered wall-to-wall by bookshelves. Each was packed with more books then I thought possible. Mitchie, in her tight pencil skirt and matching black jacket, walked behind her desk and sat down, gesturing to the chairs in front of her. I took a seat, staring at her. She stared back until finally she burst out, "What?"

"Since I managed to catch you before you made any serious lunch plans, I was wondering if you would like to go out to lunch?" I was relaxed, sitting back in on of her chairs, my fingers laced under my chin and my elbows on the arms.

"With you?" she asked me, a little shocked. My brow creased slightly.

"Of course with me," I answered. She laughed at me, throwing me off guard for about the third time since I'd met her. The laughter continued until she looked up and noticed that I wasn't laughing with her.

"Oh my God, you were serious." She coughed slightly, though I'm fairly certain it was to cover up more laughter before telling me, "No."

"Why?" I asked her, curious. She had turned me down so quickly, barely thinking about it. Not many women did that. Come to think of it, I'd never had a woman tell me no.

"I don't date men like you."

"Men like me?"

"Rich and famous ones that don't give a damn about anything but their money." She stood up behind her desk, ready to escort me out. "I think we're done here."

"We're not done until I get you to agree to at least go on one date with me." I was being obnoxious and I knew it but there was just something about her that didn't allow me to stop. I watched her lean over her desk, getting a nice shot down her shirt. If she noticed me looking, she didn't seem to care. I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to bend her over that desk but I pushed the thought from my head. This wasn't the time for that.

"Listen to me, you pompous jackass. I don't care if I have to have Jess call the police and drag you out of here. You're going to leave my office right now or there will be so much scandal surrounding your name, you won't be able to walk down the street without getting arrested."

She talked very seriously despite the sarcasm of her words and the worst part was that I believed her. Somehow I knew that she could make that happen and wouldn't hesitate to do so. I sighed, realizing I'd have to find another way to try and win her over. I stood up, wished her a good day and headed out the door.

I was frustrated the whole way home. Mitchie was a mystery and one that I wanted to solve quickly. Asking her out hadn't worked so I knew I was going to have to get a little more creative. I had to find out more about her: the things she liked, the things she didn't and since I knew virtually nothing about her, nor anyone that she was acquainted with, that wasn't going to be easy.

I decided to start with some standards. I called the flower shop from my car and ordered a dozen of lilies, daisies and orchids. I hardly ever sent roses, thinking them vastly overdone. I had them sent to her job, early, so that her secretary would be there to receive them and Mitchie would be there to walk in and see them. The card said 'I would like to see you, call me please' and then my personal line. I didn't want to take any chances that I would miss her call. My private line automatically forwarded to my cell phone when I was out so no matter what, if she called, I would get the message.

The only information that I had been able to decipher from her office was that she adored books. She had every kind on her shelves, not just ones pertaining to her job. In fact, books dealing with graphic design had only taken up one of the many shelves of her library. There was an entire case of books, however, dedicated to Tudor England, more specifically Henry VIII and his wives. Another shelf was nothing but fantasy series and yet another covered in fiction. She had a small section on WWII and the holocaust, mostly memoirs.

What has surprised me the most was the entire left wall was nothing but children's books and books directed at teenagers. Why did a grown woman have so many books geared toward people under the age of seventeen? Her interests confused me as much as her refusal.

Mitchie must have had connections of her own because when I got back there was an email from her waiting for me. The email was as private as my phone number yet she had gotten the address. It had no subject and the contents contained only one word: No. I chuckled, knowing that something as generic as flowers would not get her to say yes so therefore I didn't let the informal rejection get me down. In fact, I had been expecting it and was happy for it. Now it opened up the door for me to do something much more lavish and personal.

My hand went to the phone immediately, dialing a bookstore that I knew that dealt with hard to find books. The owner picked up.

"Hey, Shane, what did you need?"

"I need first editions of _Where the Wild things Are_,_ Peter Rabbit_ and _The Hungry Caterpillar_." I had picked three books that had been on her shelf that I was most familiar with. It was always more impressive when you picked classics like those three.

"When would you like them by?" There wasn't even the question of price. This was not the kind of book store you called if you were poor. This was the place to call when you had cash to burn.

"As soon as you can get them. And I need you to deliver them to Torres Graphics in Hollywood."

"I know that place; they design our website. I didn't know you were so intimately acquainted with Mitchie."

"I'm not." My tone made it more than clear he was over-stepping his bounds.

"I see. Well I will have them as soon as possible. You probably picked some of the hardest books to find; everyone wants first editions of these but everyone has a price. I call you when I have them." The line went dead. I did various other things throughout the day, like reschedule with my producer, before my intercom went off and Inge's voice came over the line.

"Shane, your mother is going to be here in an hour for dinner."

I glanced up at the clock and sure enough it was already six. If I hurried I could get in a shower before getting dressed into my tux. My mother was turning forty and I was taking her out for a night on the town. We were doing dinner and night of casinos and she had been looking forward to it all month. I pressed the intercom button. "Thanks, Inge."

Forty-five minutes later I was ready to go and my mother was walking into the house. I should have known she would be early and luckily Inge was on top of things as usual. I kissed my mother's cheek as she entered and told her she looked beautiful, and she did. At forty my mother looked not a day above thirty and had the energy of someone my age.

The limo got us there in time for our 7:30 reservations and my mother was shown to our seats as I checked our coats in. There are a lot of things in life that I'm prepared for but seeing Mitchie enter the restaurant on another man's arm was not one of them. I was angry and happy all at the same time. I'm glad she was there but it had never occurred to me that she was dating someone and I hated that she was. She saw me, excused herself from her date and walked over to me.

"Are you stalking me now?" she asked in a harsh whisper. My eyes narrowed.

"I have better things to do than stalk you. I'm here for dinner with my mother." I saw the surprise in her eyes. She probably hadn't expected me to do something sweet like take my mother out. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm having dinner with a client," she answered, the anger gone from her voice, her eyes wandering to where her date sat. "He refuses to go anywhere that's not a thousand dollars a plate. He also has the delusional notion that we're going to become romantically involved." The disdain in her voice didn't shock me; she frequently voiced it around me. It seemed that no one in Hollywood would be able to call this girl theirs.

"Why you have a boyfriend?" I asked, trying to be nonchalant but desperate to know if she did.

"Hardly. He's just a creepy old man with too much money. But," she continued with a sigh, "I make the most money off of him. I can't tell you how many referrals I've had because he told them of my work." She looked back at me, her expression unreadable. "How did you know?" she asked her voice so low I barely caught the words. They still confused me.

"How did I know what?"

"_The Hungry Caterpillar_. It's the original print, signed by the author himself. It's… just exquisite. How did you know how much it meant to me?"

I realized suddenly that the books must have been easier to find than my provider thought. Either that or I just had enough money to speed the process up. He had done a better than excellent job and I was going to donate a large fund to him for it. I shrugged my shoulders at Mitchie.

"Lucky guess. You had two copies of it on your bookshelves in your office along with a few others. You also had more children's books than anything else so I picked the ones I used to read as a kid."

Her face had lost all the malice that it usually held when she was around me. She seemed… well stunned, really, like she had never met anyone quite like me in her life. Her eyes were wide and her lips slightly parted in wonder. It took all my self control not to lean down and kiss those ever inviting lips.

"Mitchie, are you coming?" We looked up and her date was waiting, wondering who this man talking to the girl he wanted to shack up with was. Mitchie just nodded and turned back to me, shifting her feet uncomfortably.

"Thank you," she said simply before leaving to join her client at the table.

**ooOOoo**

It had been four days since the books and not a word from Mitchie other than no. I had done various other things but none of them had gotten the reaction that the books had. I couldn't figure out why I was trying so hard. She wasn't the different from any other girl, so why put so much time and effort into it? I couldn't answer my own question. Mitchie had me captivated and I couldn't seem to pry myself loose no matter what kind of crow bar I used. After the week full of negative answers from her I didn't know what else to try. We had seen each other at events and the banter had continued between the two of us. She would tell me that I was a soulless artist and I would tell her that she was a cold fish. Her fast tongue never faltered or disappointed. I had to date her, to at least take her out to one meal to show her that it was all just a game I played to win her over.

I had one final idea in mind and if it didn't work I didn't think that anything would. I set it all up, leaving notes for her all over town in places that I wanted. Each note had a flower and the first ended up in her office on her desk. The second was in a clothes store, an evening gown in her size and color with matching shoes waited for her. The jewelry store next, ending finally at a black tie five star restaurant.

I didn't know if she was even coming. Mitchie wasn't one to call and I didn't want her to anyways. If everything went as planned, I should have been joined by her at eight and if it didn't, well then I wasn't sure if I could handle being rejected over the phone. Eight passed and eight-oh-five came, then eight-fifteen and eight-thirty. My heart sank, part of me always believing that she would show up. I'd never actively tried to pursue a woman before and this was the first time I had been so blatantly turned down. I hated that she meant more to me than the average woman and how much power over me that gave her. At the same time I was crushed, never feeling so hurt in my life. Right as I was about to leave, Mitchie walked through the door, floor length red dress with a slit up to her knee, hair piled on her head in the most alluring manner and her eyes searching for something: me. I stepped forward, letting her know that I was there. She had four roses in her hand and she wore that same bewildered expression that she had the day I gave her the books.

"Shane… what is all this?"

"You turned down every other offer I've made to you. I hoped that if you knew it was genuine, you might agree to it." It was the truth. I had never wanted to date anyone as much as I wanted to date Mitchie. She had put me in my place since day one and that was rare. Besides, she was exactly what I wanted: regular girl with her own fortune and no chance of money getting between us. I took the flowers from her fingers, placing them gently on the table. "I thought you weren't going to come." It was like I had let out a big secret and, in a way, I had. She now knew how much I had wanted her to be there.

"I wasn't sure I was. But I figured if a guy was going to go through all that effort just to take me to dinner, the least I could do was show up."

I took her hand and led her out to the dance floor. She moved beautifully and the dress moved with her, making her look all the more graceful because of it. I could feel her curves under my hands as we danced, every part of her so explicitly female.

"I have to say that I'm pretty impressed with your dancing skills," I told her, knowing that if I kept looking at her I was going to do something stupid, like kiss her.

"I'm pretty impressed with your ability to not step on my toes."

I smiled, her fast mind never ceasing to impress me. She couldn't have been more perfect for me had I dreamed her up myself. Everything about her just made me want to spend more time with her.

When dinner was finished we took a walk in a park reserved for club members on the outskirts of Beverly Hills. It was beautiful and the weather was perfect. Mitchie's arms were laced through mine, her eyes on the beautiful fountains in front of her. I could tell she had never seen them before and was curious to that fact.

"Have you never seen the fountains?" I asked, hoping to get some further insight into this woman's life. Mitchie just shook her head no, her eyes glued to a fountain showcasing all the male Greek Gods.

"I'm not a member of the club," she told me distracted. Finally she looked up and met my eyes. "They don't let a whole lot of people in who don't pay them," she joked.

"I'm surprised you didn't sign up specifically for the gardens," I said, realizing I should have known she was adverse to clubs. It was a place that made people pay money to do nothing but associate with important people on golf greens and signified almost everything that Mitchie detested about fame and fortune.

"I would but my entire year's salary wouldn't pay for the membership in this place," she commented, her eyes now on the next fountain. I was surprised by her answer, sure that I had misheard.

"You don't?" I asked, casually. She just shook her head, her eyes sliding over all the sensual curves of the nearest stone spring. My heart dropped. The fee for this place was actually lower than most at about twenty-five grand for the year. If Mitchie couldn't afford that with all of her salary, she was not who I expected.

"Your business doesn't produce that kind of money? I would have thought with so many famous patrons it would easily bring that in." I was trying to find a loop hole, a reason that wasn't money that explained it but I knew I was grasping at straws.

She gave me a sympathetic smile. "The peril of running your own business is that you get to keep hardly any of it. The software has to be updated each year, taxes paid, employees paid not to mention how much I spend attending events to recruit said customers." She stood up straight after inspecting a statue. "No, I'm lucky if I make ten grand in profit for the year and then most of that money goes to my car payments, food and Jenny's tuition."

"Who's Jenny?"

"She's a friend of the family. Her mother and mine were very close and her mother passed the same year mine did. I still had my father; Jenny did not. She's about five years my junior and in med school." She turned to look at me. "My father doesn't have two pennies to rub together and I wasn't going to abandon her, so I foot what's left of the bill after loans and scholarships."

"That must be a pretty big foot," I commented dryly.

"Kicks me in the ass every semester," she said with a laugh. It died when she looked up and saw my face. "Shane, what's wrong?" She looked genuinely concerned but I wasn't going to be fooled. She was just looking for money like every other woman in the world. She needed it more than most so I shouldn't have been surprised that she was better at acting than most. I got the distinct feeling that she was drowning in debt. A house in Beverly Hills cost a fortune, one that she didn't have. She had tricked me so easily! I fell for that quick mouth and those long legs and her indifference. It was a feigned indifference I was sure because I had never met a woman who did want the money when they were in situations like Mitchie's. I'd never been so angry in my life.

"I just didn't realize how late it was getting," I told her, the lie evident to us both. She was hurt for an instant and then her eyes hardened, all emotion erasing from her face. This wasn't the same woman that I had be talking and laughing with all night. This wasn't the same woman who I had wanted to kiss the entire evening. This was a woman who was all business and wasn't going to let me see anything past that façade. It scared me a little, never seeing anyone cut their emotions off with such efficiency.

"Then let's get going," she said and walked herself out of the gardens.

**ooOOoo**

The night had been a disaster. Where did I ever get the idea that she had her own fortune? I knew that I had just assumed it. When Nate had told me she ran her own business for the celebrities, I just figured that it brought in lots of money. Rich people overpaid for everything, why not for a webpage? I had been savagely deceived and what was worse was that I had done it to myself. I had made the assumption. Mitchie never mentioned money, probably made her own assumptions about me. Money and bills were part of her life and she probably thought that I knew that, that I was smart enough to know what it was like to have obligations and a struggling business. Instead I was an idiot who got sucked into the idea of a perfect girl. Mitchie was just another girl that wanted my bank account.

My phone rang and I reached for it, not bothering to check the caller ID. "Hello?"

"You're a jackass."

I didn't need to see the number to know that Nate was calling me. I knew that he had been acquainted with Mitchie but I hadn't known they were close. "And why is that?"

"Because you let your idiotic preconceptions of women get in the way of a good relationship with Mitchie," he spat at me.

"Mitchie was just looking for my money."

"Mitchie couldn't give a damn about your money," he told me. He continued before I could interrupt. "She hates men with money in her private life. Unfortunately she lives in a place where all she sees is jerks who measure a person's worth by their wallet. Do you realize that you're the first person she's dated since she started that business?"

I hadn't but I wasn't going to admit that to Nate. Every woman I had ever met was after something, whether that was fame, fortune or a guy to be some arm candy. It didn't matter how rich or poor, famous or not, they all had ulterior motives.

Something inside nagged at me though, making me feel like maybe all my preconceptions were wrong when it came to Mitchie. There were things that just didn't match up, like when I had found out she had no money. She didn't do everything in her power to keep me there. She shut her emotions down and removed herself from the situation. There was no clinging, no begging, not even a goodnight when I had dropped her off. There also hadn't been a call since and it had been days. I also got the feeling she'd be angry if she found out that Nate was calling on her behalf.

"Look, Nate, if Mitchie wants a relationship, she'll call. She doesn't need you doing it for her."

"Your kind of a relationship, Shane, or hers?" He didn't let me answer as I heard him slam the phone down. I cringed, no longer sure of myself or Mitchie. Could she really be what she seemed or had she just managed to convince all these men otherwise? I'd like to believe the latter but I knew that Nate was hard to fool. However, I was having a difficult time going against everything I'd ever learned and I'd learned a lot of it the hard way. After so many disappointments I didn't allow myself any hope. Yet I did with Mitchie and the mistake was turning fatal.

I thought about it for days, convincing myself more each day that I had made a huge mistake with Mitchie. I called her, hoping to talking to her but, not surprisingly, she never answered the phone. About a week after our disastrous date I ran into her at Sarah Jessica Parker's birthday party. I was at the bar and saw her sitting with a group of women, some I recognized, others that I didn't, with her back to me. I knew she hadn't seen me and if I was going to get her to talk to me, now would be that time.

She turned just as I reached her and the change in her face was visible. She went from smiling and happy to angry in a heartbeat. I nodded at the women, greeting them politely and then asked if I could steal Mitchie for a minute. She excused herself and we walked into a private side room, the noise of the party being muffled instantly. Her anger before was nothing compared to the rage on her face when she turned to me now.

"What the fuck do you want, Shane?" She was practically yelling at me already. Suddenly I was glad for the party on the other side of the door. "Haven't you done enough already?"

"Mitchie, I'm sorry." I knew it was inadequate but I didn't know what else to say to her. I had never been so wrong before in my life, had never misjudged someone so poorly.

"Not going to cut it. Look, it could've worked out, we tried it and it didn't. It's my own fault for trusting someone so rich. Now just let it drop because you obviously don't want to be in this relationship any more than I do. It was a lapse in judgment on both of our parts." She tried to brush past me and out the door but I caught her arm.

"Your right, I had a major lapse in judgment. I compared you to every other woman I've known when in reality, you're so far above them."

She looked at me and for once her emotions were all over her face. She was stunned and hurt and wary all at the same time. I cursed myself for being such an idiot, for thinking that she was just like all the others. If I had just opened my eyes for a second I could have seen that she was the most amazing, unique person I'd ever met in my dull life. Then I did something I've wanted to do since I met her. I leaned down and pressed my lips to hers. I meant it to be brief, slow and seduce her in every way a woman like her deserved to be seduced but after just the smallest taste of her I couldn't stop myself. My arms wrapped around her, pulling her as close to me as I could get her and my tongue slid hungrily into her mouth, wanting to taste every inch of her. Her response to me was no less eager as I felt her fingers lace tightly into my hair. It was as if I had never kissed a woman before. In reality I'd never kissed one like _this_ before, like I couldn't get enough of her. Finally our senses managed to creep back in and remind us that this was neither the time nor the place to do this. Mitchie pulled back, still draped around me, her breath coming heavier than earlier.

"I should go," she managed to say, disentangling herself from me. I held her tight, not letting her move.

"I'm going to call you," I said to her. "And I want you to pick up." I knew if I didn't specify she would try and avoid my call, even now, even after that kiss. I received a nod from her before I finally let her go.

I did call her, that night, not being able to wait. Despite the fact that it was three in the morning she picked up.

"You called," she said, not even bothering to ask who it was.

"You answered," I responded. I was sitting in bed, flicking through channels on the television. The sound was off and I wasn't really paying attention to what was on screen. I left it on the food network before dropping the remote on my bed.

"When you said you were going to call I thought you meant at a decent hour like the rest of the world." Despite her words, there was no malice in her voice; she was happy that I had called her.

"I tried calling during normal hours and you never answered," I said, easily falling into our usual banter. Trading insults with Mitchie was something that I knew I would never get tired of.

"I get a lot of calls during the day, Shane, it's not my fault you call when I'm on the phone. Maybe one day, if you get some friends, you'll know what I mean."

I leaned back in bed, sinking into the pillows and put my cell on speaker. On food network they were making monuments out of chocolate. I felt food network was better without the sound. I just wanted to watch them making things and the results, not listen to them talk.

"Shane!"

I realized I had zoned out a bit and that Mitchie had been trying to talk to me. "Sorry," I said, turning my attention back to my phone. "I was distracted by large amounts of chocolate."

There was a long pause. "What are you _doing_ over there?"

I laughed at her tone, realizing that it was an odd comment to make. "I'm lying in bed watching the Food Network. They're making things out of chocolate. It's pretty cool, actually."

"You're lying in bed on the phone with me?"

"Yeah, so what? Where are you?"

"On my couch. Not all of us have TVs in our room or, you know, talk to people while in bed," she told me, her voice teasing and just the slightest bit suggestive.

"You know you like it." I felt like a teenager again with the amount of slang and sexual innuendo coming out of my mouth.

"I know I like being kept in the dark."

"Good, I don't like it with the lights on either." I heard her sputter and cough on the other line and I couldn't help but laugh. I don't know what she had been drinking but she wasn't anymore.

"Damn it, Shane, I just got red wine all down the front of me." I heard her muttering about ruining one she liked and I realized she hadn't changed into her pajamas.

"Are you still wearing your dress from tonight?" I asked, remembering the white halter dress that came to her knees that I had seen her in earlier tonight. She had looked stunning in it, more so than usual.

"Yes!" she said angrily. "And now it's ruined."

"I'll buy you a new one," I told her. "Who walks around their house in a dress anyways?"

"You called me soon after I got in. I didn't have a chance to change yet. Plus, if I know you, you probably called me the second you got in. I bet you're still wearing your suit." The end of the sentence was muffled and I could hear the rustling of clothes and I realized that she was getting undressed. It was hard to keep my voice even.

"Actually, I'm in my boxers," I told her unabashedly. Again there was a long stunned pause.

"I'm going to bed," she stated and then as if she knew what I was going to say, and she probably did, added, "alone."

I laughed, loving how well she already seemed to know me. I didn't have friends who knew me that well, let alone anything else. "Goodnight, Mitchie."

"Goodnight, Shane."

**ooOOoo**

"I told you not to send me another one," she complained, "I already don't have enough days of the week to wear the ones you've sent me."

I look over at the clock that reads four AM. Mitchie had called an hour ago and was still complaining that I had sent her a present. Three months ago, when I had caused her to spill red wine on her dress I had replaced the dress, much to her surprise. I had been sending her dresses weekly every since.

"I can't help it that I want the girl on my arm to look good," I answer her, flopping down on my bed.

"Shane, I'm never on your arm."

That was the other problem I was having. Mitchie and I had been talking on the phone for months but never once would she go out with me in public, or at least as my date. She said that it was fine if we were friends but that making it anything more than that was just a bad idea for both of us, that she just wasn't a good match for someone with as much fame and money as me. Maybe she thought it would be a bad idea but the more I talked with her, the more I thought it was the only good idea I'd ever had.

So I saw her frequently at functions, from movie premieres to celebrity baby showers, and we talked there. After I saw her wear the same dress three times in a week, I decided that the girl needed some new clothes. In typical Mitchie fashion she wouldn't take any money from me and, after fighting her, I finally got her to accept a dress or two. The reality was she sent back more than she kept. I'd only gotten her to accept two of them and one of them was because she hadn't done her laundry and didn't have another dress to wear.

I wanted to help her. Mitchie spent her life struggling to make ends meet, that much was easy to see. Paying for someone else's med school along with running her own business was taxing on her and she worked late nights and rose to early mornings. I felt selfish for keeping her on the phone this late but she was never free any other time. Though she did have a few high paying clients, most weren't. Mitchie was a small business owner swimming in a world of big business. The only problem was she preferred to drown than grab onto the life vest.

"It's getting late," I said reluctantly. I knew she would be up at six the next morning, maybe seven, a mere two or three hours from now. If I didn't let her go now she just wouldn't sleep. "Are you going to that charity thing that Disney is hosting?"

"Of course. I make the most money at charities because people are in such a giving mood. It's like they're all looking for an excuse to throw their money away to make themselves feel better."

"I've seen your work, Mitchie, and believe me, they're not throwing it away."

"Flatter all you want, Shane, I'm still not going to date you. Night." Before I could answer the phone went dead and I was talking to myself.

**ooOOoo**

The event was packed, especially for a charity event. Disney was a pretty big corporation though and their events tended to be large. It took me a good twenty minutes to find Mitchie in the crowd of people. As usual I saw her before she saw me and the gown she was in stunned me. I know that I hadn't bought it for her but the floor length, aquamarine, silk gown she wore looked like it was made especially for her. I knew it wasn't, Mitchie was a strictly off-the-rack kind of girl, but that didn't mean she didn't know how to pick out clothes for herself. I came up beside her and touched my hand lightly to her elbow. She jumped in surprise before turning and seeing that it was just me. She smiled, the turned back to the person that she was talking to like I hadn't even shown up. Finally, the man left and she turned her attention towards me.

"I don't know about you, but I usually check my tags before I put my cloths on. If they say 'Made before 1970' I try not to wear them," I said, pointing to the man she had just been talking to, to make my point. I was rewarded with a laugh. I held my hand out for her and she took it, letting me lead her out to the dance floor.

I loved dancing with Mitchie, as often as I could manage it. She moved incredibly gracefully on her feet and always looked stunning on the floor. Even better was that I got to hold her close, put my hands on her waist and feel her curves against me every time I twirled her around. It was the only time she'd let me so close. I couldn't help but look at her while we danced, realizing how easily she had wormed her way into my life and my heart. She was so small, barely reaching my shoulders, but had turned my entire life upside down.

"Mitchie," I said to her before I even knew what I was going to say. She looked up expectantly. "You're absolutely incredible, do you realize that?" I watched her duck her head and blush at the compliment. She wasn't used to being praised. I realized that more than anything I wanted this girl in my life and as more than just my friend. "Let's go out tomorrow," I said.

"I have the new Hannah Montana movie to attend," she said making a face. "As if that isn't on the top of my list of things that I don't want to go to."

I shook my head, knowing she wasn't understanding me. "No, don't meet me somewhere, go out with me. It's the perfect excuse not to go to the premiere. We can have dinner or go to the fountains again or-"

"Don't." The soft word cut me off easier than the loudest scream.

"Mitchie, I can't be just friends with you anymore; it's not enough for me," I told her, frustrated and desperate to make her a more permanent structure in my life. Mitchie was exactly what I needed in life, in a woman, but the closest I could get to her was when I was like this, dancing in a crowd full of people with her.

"I'm sorry, Shane but it's all I have to give you." She looked at me with the saddest expression I'd ever seen. "Why did you have to ruin it? Why couldn't you just let things be?" Before I could answer her she tore out of my arms and through the crowd. I ran after her but she was faster, smaller and much more equipped to slip through the crowds than I was. By the time I finally got through the front door and outside, I couldn't see her anywhere. I ran into the street, scanning the area, knowing she couldn't be far. Mitchie never used the valet parking so I knew she would have to walk to her car but which way? If I chose the wrong way, I knew that it would be the end of everything.

Seconds later the decision was made for me. To my left I heard a scream that, had I not been in the street away from the noise, no one would ever have heard. I knew without a doubt that the scream was Mitchie's. I didn't think twice before running in her direction, petrified as to what I would find when I got there. The scream came again, closer this time and I turned down and alley in time to see Mitchie being attacked by two men.

They were larger than her, not hard considering how petite she was, but hardly a match for me. I was 6'3" and kept up a daily regiment of training. I punched one of them in the face, sending him to the ground in agony. The other one, who was holding Mitchie, tried dragging her away. As he turned, I grabbed him by the back of the collar and then ducked, flipping the man over my back and into a pile of trash cans. I didn't know if either had recovered but I grabbed Mitchie's arm and ran as fast as I could out of the alley. When we were in sight of the benefit again, I slowed, seeing that the men weren't following. No one could see us yet so I turned to look at Mitchie for the first time since I had dragged her out of the alley and my heart almost stopped.

Her dress was ripped, one thin spaghetti strap broken and hanging off her shoulder and a slit up the back of her dress where there hadn't been one earlier this evening. The tear went all the way up, almost exposing her undergarments. She was shaking visibly, trying not to burst into hysterics but I could see she was quickly losing the battle. I pulled her into my arms crushing her to me, so relieved that she was safe. I had to get her out of here and quickly.

"I'll be back in two seconds," I told her, planning to go get the limo without exposing her to the press. She held on tightly to me, shaking her head violently. I kissed the top of her head, planning to stay here the rest of the night if that was what she needed. I realized that she just didn't want to be left alone again. The slit in the back of her dress at least wasn't high enough to be indecent but the rest of her was clearly disheveled. I took my coat and draped it over her shoulders, covering up the worst of it. I laced her arm through mine and walked back to the valet.

"My limo, now," I told him, indicating this wasn't one of those times it was okay to make me wait for my car. Seconds later my limo pulled up and Mitchie climbed in, followed by me.

She was shaking the whole way home, her body still in shock, adrenaline pumping through her. I held her the whole way, soothing her with incoherent noises. She finally started to notice her surroundings.

"My apartment is no where near here," she said. I had never been to her apartment, so it was probably true but I didn't really care.

"I'm not leaving you alone tonight." Again, my voice left no room for an argument. In typical Mitchie fashion she argued anyways.

"But-"

"Mitchie, please, for my sanity, just do as I ask tonight." I was holding to her as tightly as I could, my voice ragged. I just had to keep repeating to myself that she was fine and that nothing had happened to her. She was right here safe in my arms. "Just this once let me take care of you because if I'm left by myself thinking about what almost happened, what would have happened if I hadn't of shown up…" I couldn't continue. I felt her arms squeeze me back and her body relax into mine. She just nodded, her face buried in my chest.

We got to the house and I led her upstairs and into my bedroom. Her eyes widened at its size and the large bed that sat in the middle of it. It could easily fit four of me.

"The shower is through there," I said, pointing to a door off in the far corner of my room.

"Bath?" she asked me quietly.

"Big enough to fit a football team. Do you want me to get someone to start it for you?"

She shook her head slowly. "No, I can do it. Towels?"

"Clean ones are hanging on the rack next to the tub and bubbles are under the sink." I thought she would tease me about taking bubble baths but she just nodded and slowly made her way to the bathroom. I didn't move until I could hear the water running through the closed door. I immediately pressed the intercom for Inge's room.

"What do you want?" she mumbled. I had obviously woken her up but I didn't care.

"I need jeans in every style you can find them and enough shirts for a varied women's wardrobe in a size four. I want them ready and in my closet by the morning. I also want flip flops and sneakers in equal variety along with undergarments and make-up to suit every skin type." There was a separate entrance to my closet, allowing the staff into it without allowing them into my room.

"Did you want the guest room made up?" she asked me, all trace of weariness gone. Inge knew I meant business and so now, so did she. I thought about it for a moment.

"Yeah, go ahead and make it up, just in case. And call Torres Designs in the morning and tell them that Mitchie won't be in but she'll call later to check in." I would try and get Mitchie to sleep in here tonight. If worse came to worse, I would go to the guest room but I wanted her as comfortable as possible and my room was the most comfortable. Also, the guest room was in a whole other wing of the house, not somewhere I wanted to send her.

"Breakfast?" she asked.

"Every type of fresh fruit you can find along with scrambled eggs, blueberry bagels and a non-fat caramel latte, ready when we call for it."

"Any entertainment?"

"If I need any, I can order something on the TV. I don't need anything brought up from the collection."

"Everything will be made ready for you." We simultaneously disconnected from the intercom. Seconds later, Mitchie came out wrapped in my robe and I cursed myself, knowing I had forgotten to have one purchased for her. She would just have to make due with mine for her stay. Her hair was still dry so I knew she hadn't gotten into her bath yet.

"Hey," I said quietly, walking over to her. "What did you need?" She didn't answer, just held out the bottle of bubbles. Her hand was shaking so violently that the liquid inside was sloshing around.

"I… I couldn't get it open," she told me and then, before I knew what was happened, she started sobbing. I took the bubbles from her hand, placing them on the nightstand and held her, her tears staining my shirt. Her whole body shook as all the events from the night caught up to her and her body was dealing with it the only way it knew how.

"It's alright, Michie, sweetheart, just let it all out. Everything's fine. I'm right here. You're safe." I murmured the words over and over into her ear. Finally her sobbing slowed and her tears became less and I felt her body leaning against mine in exhaustion. I led her over to my bed, letting her sit on the edge. "I'll be right back. Just sit here for a second." I grabbed the bottle of bubble bath and poured it into the tub with the running hot water. Soon the bath was full of them, floating around the bathroom. I went back and Mitchie hadn't even moved an inch. I lifted her into my arms and walked her into the bathroom. Getting her in the tub wouldn't be nearly as easy. "Mitchie, honey, your going to have to get in yourself. I'll wait outside while you do."

She clutched to my shirt, shaking her head no. "Don't go."

"But, Mitchie, you have to get undressed," I pointed out. She just shook her head again. "Oh, Mitchie, I'm so sorry." I said, wishing this hadn't happened. She didn't deserve it, any of it. I put her on her feet, her back to me. I slipped the rob off, averting my eyes from anything important before helping her step over the edge of the tub and lower herself into it. I turned to leave but her hand held my wrist.

"Stay."

I sat on the edge of the tub but she shook her head. "No, in here."

I realized that she wanted me to get into the tub with her. I nodded and kissed her head before stripping down to my boxers. She may not have been decent but the last thing I was going to do was get in there naked with her. Not that my boxers hid much but it was the best I could do. I slipped into the tub and sat behind her, immediately feeling her relax against me. Her whole body leaned against me, into me, her bare skin against my own. Her shaking was starting to subside and her body falling asleep, unable to do anything else. She had been through so much all she could do was shut down.

I grabbed the loufa off the shelf and lathered it up with my soap. I stroked it over her back and shoulder, washing her off. Soon the sponge was floating in the water and my hands were gently running up and down her spine. She was almost asleep and I decided that it was time to get out.

"Mitchie, c'mon, time to get out. She mumbled something as she burrowed further into my arms, her chest sliding against mine in the slick water. I closed my eyes, suppressing any desire that I felt for her. I was glad she was too tired to notice what my boxers were no longer concealing. I helped her stand up and grabbed a towel off the wrack, wrapping her tightly in a towel that was as big as the robe she had been wearing previously. I pulled the plug, the water draining as we dried off. I stepped out of the tub and picked her up again, towel and all and laid her down on my bed, pulling the covers over her. I went back into the bathroom and dried off, changing into a new pair of boxers and pajama pants. I came back and Mitchie's towel was on the floor and she was cocooned under the covers. I leaned over and kissed her forehead.

"I'm going to go sleep in the next room," I said. I probably wouldn't get a whole lot of sleeping done because the next room held nothing but a pool table, television and couch, but there was no chance in hell I was going to be more than a room away from her.

"No," she mumbled. "Please, sleep here."

"Mitchie, I-"

"Stop arguing," she told me, pulling on my arm. My heart melted and I walked to the other side of the bed, sliding in next to her. I had planned to keep plenty of space between us, planned to make sure that she had all the space she needed, planned to make sure that I wasn't any where near taking advantage of her but when she draped herself across me and fell asleep I didn't have the heart to move her.

I didn't sleep much that night. The most beautiful woman I knew was lying on me for most of it and I was afraid to move, afraid to breathe in case I woke her up. I caught a few naps here and there but mostly I just watched her, soothed her and when the bad dreams came, kissed them softly away until she fell asleep once more.

Around nine AM she woke up, stretched lazily and curled up next to me. Her half asleep lids looked at me and then widened when she realized that this wasn't just every other morning. She sat up quickly, blanket covering her.

"What happened? What am I doing here?" She was panicked. I sat up but gave her space, not touching her.

"Don't you remember what happened?" I asked, wondering if she had blocked out the whole night.

"I remember the men," she said, "and how they…" she couldn't finish the sentence and I didn't want her to. "I remember getting in the limo and heading here and then," she shook her head, "nothing." She looked around again. "Shane, why am I in your bed, naked? What did we do last night?"

"We took a bath, which you practically fell asleep during, and then I dried you off and put you into bed and you asked me to stay with you. You slept the whole night."

"That's it?" she asked, not sure if she wanted to believe me. I looked at her, her whole demeanor different than the night before. Last night she had wanted nothing else than to rely on my strength. This morning she was on the defensive, not sure what to believe. I realized that, despite all we'd been through with each other, she didn't trust me. I was too rich and too famous and men like that couldn't be trusted. She had said it often when I had asked her why she never got involved with anyone, said it even when I didn't.

"That's it," I confirmed. I climbed out of bed and grabbed a t-shirt out of my drawer, throwing it on. "There's clothes for you in the closet," I pointed towards the door to the right of the bed, "and the shower is clean and ready to go. If you want breakfast, come downstairs and order whatever you like. My driver will take you to your car and make sure that you get home safely." I didn't wait for her response, just walked out of the door, closing it behind me. Later on I watched her leave from my bedroom window.

**ooOOoo**

She didn't trust me, not at all. I'd talked to her everyday for months, attended every event she had been to so I could spend time with her because she wouldn't see me any other time and sent her flowers and gifts and she still thought of me as nothing more than a rich friend. So that's what I acted like. I pretended that the night at the benefit never happened. I still only saw her at whatever events we both showed up to, still danced with her, still talked to her while there. Other than ordering her a valet at every event, nothing had changed.

That and I had stopped the calls. I hadn't called her since the night before she had stayed over. I couldn't bear to have a conversation with her like nothing was different, like the playful flirting didn't mean so much more. It was bad enough that all her clothes were still in my closet and I looked at them, wishing they got some use but unable to get rid of them.

Stupidly, so stupidly, I had fallen in love with Mitchie Torres.

I was at another function, almost a month after it had happened and I ended up sitting next to her. I remembered a time that I would have been so excited and spent the night trying to stealthily hold her hand or put my arm around her. Now neither of those things happened, in fact we barely spoke. That was pretty normal these days and, other than dancing with her at parties, we didn't have much contact. She was so elegant on the dance floor and loved it so much that I couldn't deny her it, even now, though usually she was the one to ask me. I just agreed.

Half-way through the night she turned to me, her eyes sad as they looked at me. Every time she did I felt like she was seeing into me and pulling out whatever I had left to give. She leaned towards me and whispered in my ear.

"Will you dance with me, Shane?" she asked over the noise. As usual she looked too good to be true until I realized that she was. I just stood up and offered her my hand and she took it, rising gracefully. We walked out onto the dance floor and she stepped close to me, close enough that I could smell her perfume and feel her breath on my neck. I could hardly remember the last time she got this close. I had to stop myself from touching her, kissing her, telling her what she did to me.

"I need some fresh air. Will you come with me," she asked her mouth against my ear. I just nodded and let her lead me outside. Considering the crowd, the grounds were relatively empty. We were well out of earshot of anyone around. "Shane, what's happening to us?"

I looked at her confused. I was only giving her what she wanted. She had told me over and over that rich men weren't meant to date poor women. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"We're not friends anymore. I mean, we are but not like we used to be." She stopped and looked at me. "You were the best friend I had, the only friend I had. I don't know what happened. I told you everything, relied on you, leaned on you when I didn't have the strength to do it myself." She gave me a sad smile like she was trying to convince me it was a joke. "I didn't even realize I needed strength until you lent me some of yours."

"Mitchie, you can always lean on me," I told her though I didn't know how much truth was left to that statement. I'd always protect her but I couldn't go back to the way we were. I didn't have as much strength as she gave me credit for.

"That's what I thought until… you saved me, Shane."

"Anyone would have done the same. I certainly wasn't going to let those men hurt you," I told her, my voice neutral.

She shook her head vehemently. "No, I didn't mean that. I mean, yes, you saved me then too but you saved me from myself." I tried to start walking again but she stopped me. "I never thank you for that night. You did everything for me. You saved my life, took care of me and were the perfect gentleman. I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't shown up, if you had left me alone."

"You don't need to thank me. I only did what would any other guy would have done."

"But you're not just any other guy. You're different from all the ones I've met in my life. You picked me up and took me home and healed me in every way that a person can be healed and I accused you of-" she cut herself off, clearly disgusted with what she had done. "You did nothing wrong but chase away my bad dreams and I didn't believe you. I pushed you away and when you left the dreams came back. They came back, Shane." She could say anymore, the tears finally coming out. I pulled her in my arms, not being able to do anything else. How could I deny her all that I had to give her, all that I wanted to give her? I'd give her everything I had and then when she wanted me to leave, well I would go. Until then I would take anything that she would give me.

"Oh, Mitchie." Her tears ceased and she pulled back, wiping her eyes.

"Look at me, making a mess of myself." She tried to laugh it off. "What are you going to do with me?"

I stopped the words 'marry you' on my lips. She ran away from me when I told her that I wanted to date her. I didn't want to imagine her reaction if she knew that I loved her more than anything in the world. What a cruel fate that the only woman I ever wanted was the only one who would never be with me. The words I tried so hard not to tell her came out anyways.

"I'm going to love you," I told her. "I already do." Her eyes went wide but I couldn't feel bad for what I did. She should know how much she had changed me. I smiled, one as sad as the one she had given me earlier. "I'm sorry. That was breaking the rules wasn't it?" I couldn't stand there, couldn't look at her anymore. I turned and started walking away and I knew she wasn't following. She never seemed to follow.

"Shane, wait!"

I turned and she was running at me. Before I could think she had jumped in my arms and kissed me fiercely on the lips. Her hands were in my hair, her tongue sliding easily into my mouth. I held her tightly around her waist, holding her a good foot in the air but she didn't seem to notice. She kissed me as if she had two feet planted firmly on the ground. When I felt a tear fall on my cheek I pulled away, Mitchie still in my arms.

"What's wrong?" I asked her. "What are you crying?"

"I'm scared I'm too late."

"Too late for what?"

"Too late to tell you how head over heels in love with you I am. I'm so sorry, Shane. I didn't think it was possible for someone like you to fall in love with someone like me. I always thought that you were too rich to care and I was too poor to care about. When you turned all that on its head that night I didn't know what to do, so I ran. Stupidly, I ran in the wrong direction."

"And tonight?" I asked. "Did you run in the right direction tonight?"

"If I end up in your arms then I ran in the right direction."

I smiled, setting her on her feet, not believing how lucky I was to get everything I ever wanted in one small, brown haired girl. "Any direction you run in, I'll always be there to catch you."

She smiled at me and I saw the spark of the girl I loved. "Really, even if I run this way?" She turned in the opposite direction, ready to walk off but I grabbed her around her waist and pulled her towards me. She turned in my arms and wrapped her around my neck.

"I love you," she told me.

"Say it again," I said. I was sure that I'd never get tired of hearing it.

"I love you," she repeated and it sounded just as amazing as the first time she had told me. I didn't answer, didn't need to. I simply pulled her into my arms and kissed her.

**ooOOoo**

Hope that you enjoyed it. Forewarning: this is a one shot. That means no more chapters and (in all likelihood) no sequel.


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